I think I can say with almost absolute certainty that anyone reading this has had to set up "security questions" for an account online somewhere. They're usually pretty terrible. When you go back to that myspace page 4 years later just to check it out, you'll inevitably have lost your password, and a question will pop up like this:
What is the name of the third animal you owned?
For me, that could be: a goldfish, one of four dogs, one of two ferrets, one of three hamsters, one of 6 chinchillas, or maybe I was trying to be clever when I made it to prevent any hackers from seeing pictures of my greasy 13 year old self by saying "hair lice."
Here's what my brain does with a set of your generic security questions online.
What elementary school did you attend?
-That could be either Monte Vista, Jordan Ridge, or my house. You pick.
What is the name of your favorite pet?
-What do you think? Do you honestly think that I had trusty Rover by my side as I wandered through the fields with my bb gun, making rafts and forts and mud castles and stealing veggies from the grumpy next door neighbor? As previously mentioned, a veritable horde of animals has entered and exited my house. And I was fond of lots of them.
Where did your parents meet?
-A wedding. Somewhere. I know that.
Where did you go for your honeymoon?
-Not applicable. I can think of lots of places I would LIKE to go, however. That would still not be a good question, though.
What street did you grow up on?
-Jarred Road or Greasewood Drive.
What was the name of your third-grade teacher?
-I actually do remember this one! Her name was Mrs. A-------. I know this because I only went to public school for two years. Good. I can use this one. But what if I need two more?
What was your first job?
-Well, I've been mowing the lawn for years now. My other jobbish skills include weeding gardens, cleaning bathrooms, using fabled devices like brooms and mops, and spraying febreeze. I volunteered at a kids camp as a counselor, maintenance crew member, and program coordinator. My first "salaried" job was as a soccer ref for little kids. Depending on how "sneaky" I want to be it could be any one of those things.
What was the name of your childhood best friend?
-Again. Not stereotypical farmboy childhood with best friend Jeb and trusty dog Rover. Here's what my life looked like with accompanying social circles until I was 13:
Age 1-4: I was born in Utah and spent my first years drooling on the floor and crapping my pants. My best friends were the foodmom and the beardface. Until my little brother came flying into my life. According to my parents, I slapped him in the face the first time I saw him (cuz, you know, somebody else was getting attention instead of me for several days. And when I found out who it was, I took action. The attempt failed, and I've been trying to complete my vengeance ever since...)
Age 5-8: Still living in Kearns. I had a friend down the road named Trevor who I liked because he had a Nintendo 64. Those babies were hot items when I was a kid. I had other friends at my church in Salt Lake too. So picking one is kind of not possible.
Age 9-13: Moved to Riverton. Not a huge move, but enough to be away from the people I knew in Kearns. The first day we moved there Ben and I went to the nearby park and found a group of kids our age playing. We had to go back shortly for dinner, and we asked them if they'd still be around when we got back. They said they would....but we never saw any of them again. I had a smattering of homeschool friends, but a bestie never really emerged.
So there you have it. I could just pick Ben to make things less complicated, but then when I get to the point when I need to remember my bestest friend in the whole wide world, I wouldn't remember who on earth I thought he was when I made the account.
-What was your dream job as a kid?
So, you're telling me every kid wants to do one thing, and one thing only for several years? So incredibly long, in fact, that it's imprinted on their minds until the day they die and realize with the very last breath they take that they never got to be a botanist in a cute little shop in Florida? Give me a break. Yes, I wanted to be an astronaut, but I also wanted to be a marine biologist, spiderman, a jedi, a nuclear physicist, a marine, and a writer. Would you dare to insinuate that I was so narrow-minded as to only want one thing in life?
I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you have any particular pet peeve security questions.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Stop it
Who takes the opportunity to open their minds?
I cannot answer that question, but I feel compelled to ask it, because even though I reside in a university for the time being, I feel that many here have not done so yet.
In fact, I think the opposite has happened. Instead of "expanding my horizons" or some other American Dream bullcrap, I feel as though I'm actually being encouraged to enter a box. The only time my horizons are open is when I'm born. Anything is possible, but the possibility of change decreases with age. You become somebody in particular. You enter adulthood with a set amount of likes and dislikes, passions and pet peeves, loves and hates. And you become more easy to categorize.
It's easy to call children loud, annoying, and playful, but that's because they are just beginning to learn to emulate us. They enjoy a far greater range of things because they don't have a slew of expectations and fears and "personality traits" screaming in the back of their minds.
And for some reason, we tell them they can be "anything they want to be" on Sesame Street, and when they get to college, they need to get a job, keep the job, and retire at 65 with a beach-front house in Florida. Don't miss Parcheesi on Fridays.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is:
Why on earth is the world hell-bent on lying to me?
Why can't it just tell me right off the bat that I should seek a nice, steady job, a nice, safe house, and two and a half nice children? And why would I want a kid with a severe genetic defect?
All joking aside, I guess it's because we all want to feel like we have some degree of freedom in what we choose, yet so many of the things we want to choose are frowned upon once we reach our twenties. It's literally taking metaphorical candy from a baby.
Thus, you should tell me that if I do want a stable, easy life, I should pursue an engineering degree, find a nice, happy wife that's good at cooking, and have two kids plus a one-legged one. And a golden retriever.
And then tell me the things I should be worrying about. Once I'm dead, no one will remember what degree I got, how much money I made, or what I told my teacher I wanted to be in sixth grade. Maybe they'll remember my kid with one eye, but that's irrelevant.
But they will remember the impact I had on them as people. So, maybe, we need to encourage our kids to be for somebody else, instead of being for themselves.
Stop telling me to be what I want to be. It's a lie, and you know it.
I cannot answer that question, but I feel compelled to ask it, because even though I reside in a university for the time being, I feel that many here have not done so yet.
In fact, I think the opposite has happened. Instead of "expanding my horizons" or some other American Dream bullcrap, I feel as though I'm actually being encouraged to enter a box. The only time my horizons are open is when I'm born. Anything is possible, but the possibility of change decreases with age. You become somebody in particular. You enter adulthood with a set amount of likes and dislikes, passions and pet peeves, loves and hates. And you become more easy to categorize.
It's easy to call children loud, annoying, and playful, but that's because they are just beginning to learn to emulate us. They enjoy a far greater range of things because they don't have a slew of expectations and fears and "personality traits" screaming in the back of their minds.
And for some reason, we tell them they can be "anything they want to be" on Sesame Street, and when they get to college, they need to get a job, keep the job, and retire at 65 with a beach-front house in Florida. Don't miss Parcheesi on Fridays.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is:
Why on earth is the world hell-bent on lying to me?
Why can't it just tell me right off the bat that I should seek a nice, steady job, a nice, safe house, and two and a half nice children? And why would I want a kid with a severe genetic defect?
All joking aside, I guess it's because we all want to feel like we have some degree of freedom in what we choose, yet so many of the things we want to choose are frowned upon once we reach our twenties. It's literally taking metaphorical candy from a baby.
Thus, you should tell me that if I do want a stable, easy life, I should pursue an engineering degree, find a nice, happy wife that's good at cooking, and have two kids plus a one-legged one. And a golden retriever.
And then tell me the things I should be worrying about. Once I'm dead, no one will remember what degree I got, how much money I made, or what I told my teacher I wanted to be in sixth grade. Maybe they'll remember my kid with one eye, but that's irrelevant.
But they will remember the impact I had on them as people. So, maybe, we need to encourage our kids to be for somebody else, instead of being for themselves.
Stop telling me to be what I want to be. It's a lie, and you know it.
Friday, October 4, 2013
How to Make your Local Cashier Happy
I work part-time in a cafe funded by the university.
For the most part, it's a pretty good job. I'm on my feet the whole time, I don't smell like fast food when I'm done, and the students are nice.
Mostly.
Here's a few ways to really make your local cashier really happy.
-DON'T IGNORE THEM.
Whenever people come in to buy something, I ask them how they're doing. Most of the time people will respond. Sometimes they'll engage me in a short, lively conversation that makes us both feel better. But sometimes they do this:
How rude.
I honestly try to invest in every person that comes in, even if they're only getting some ice water. If you don't want to talk much, just give a couple of terse answers and I'll leave you alone. But for some reason a cashier is an alien or something that can't be associated with. It bums me out, and it makes you look like a jerk, so even if you're just super shy you could at least say:
I'm good.
And pay me, and walk out.
-Don't shoot the messenger!
Things happen. Prices change, managers switch regular daily deals, equipment breaks down. It's up to me to notify management of any problems, but beyond that I can't magically fix the soda machine. I don't have the qualifications, the tools, or the permission to fix it. I'm sorry, I truly am, but please just go talk to management if you're really that upset about your diet coke being gone.
-Use your brain.
I don't know why this is an issue, but sometimes people blatantly ignore signs that say something isn't ready. I've had people come in, see the sign that says
CORN DOGS ARE NOT READY.
And they reach around the sign and grab a corn dog.
They buy it, leave, and come back later complaining that it's frozen. With several teeth marks in it that make it look like they let a beaver go at it.
So we have a new procedure.
We ask them where they got it.
If they say:
"Behind the not ready sign."
Then it's their own dang fault and NO REFUND.
I can't magically un-freeze things either. I'm just a 20 year old college student working at minimum wage to pay rent and sell you corn dogs
-Unfold your money.
This should be a no-brainer, but it really ruins my day to have somebody grab a soggy dollar bill that's been smashed in his back pocket all day to pay for his corn dog.
Here's why:
1. It's disgusting.
Be nice. Be happy. Love on a cashier near you.
For the most part, it's a pretty good job. I'm on my feet the whole time, I don't smell like fast food when I'm done, and the students are nice.
Mostly.
Here's a few ways to really make your local cashier really happy.
-DON'T IGNORE THEM.
Whenever people come in to buy something, I ask them how they're doing. Most of the time people will respond. Sometimes they'll engage me in a short, lively conversation that makes us both feel better. But sometimes they do this:
How rude.
I honestly try to invest in every person that comes in, even if they're only getting some ice water. If you don't want to talk much, just give a couple of terse answers and I'll leave you alone. But for some reason a cashier is an alien or something that can't be associated with. It bums me out, and it makes you look like a jerk, so even if you're just super shy you could at least say:
I'm good.
And pay me, and walk out.
-Don't shoot the messenger!
Things happen. Prices change, managers switch regular daily deals, equipment breaks down. It's up to me to notify management of any problems, but beyond that I can't magically fix the soda machine. I don't have the qualifications, the tools, or the permission to fix it. I'm sorry, I truly am, but please just go talk to management if you're really that upset about your diet coke being gone.
-Use your brain.
I don't know why this is an issue, but sometimes people blatantly ignore signs that say something isn't ready. I've had people come in, see the sign that says
CORN DOGS ARE NOT READY.
And they reach around the sign and grab a corn dog.
They buy it, leave, and come back later complaining that it's frozen. With several teeth marks in it that make it look like they let a beaver go at it.
So we have a new procedure.
We ask them where they got it.
If they say:
"Behind the not ready sign."
Then it's their own dang fault and NO REFUND.
I can't magically un-freeze things either. I'm just a 20 year old college student working at minimum wage to pay rent and sell you corn dogs
-Unfold your money.
This should be a no-brainer, but it really ruins my day to have somebody grab a soggy dollar bill that's been smashed in his back pocket all day to pay for his corn dog.
Here's why:
1. It's disgusting.
2. I have to unfold it and put it away, which can take a while depending on how rumpled it is.
3. If it's soggy...and it's been in your back pocket...then, well, butt-sweat.
I don't want to touch your butt-sweat. I might put on a latex glove to handle your butt-sweat. I am well within company policy to wear gloves while handling money, and if it teaches you something in the process, then good. I won't be snarky about it, because it's never my job to be rude or annoyed with a customer, but hopefully you'll catch the hint. Hopefully.
I hope this has been food for thought. Like I said, 90% of the people I see everyday are really nice to talk to and serve. There's just a few bad eggs that kind of make working miserable sometimes. Please don't be that guy.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Why You Should Never Read The Campus Paper
There's a man sitting in the Merrill-Cazier Library at Utah State University. Dark clouds roll outside, and the temperature is dropping to forty degrees. Snow graces the peaks of the mountains, a dark omen for a cold winter since it's arriving at the end of September, and not at least a month later when it's expected.
This man is clothed in polished earth-colored leather shoes, strikingly ironed black slacks and a pinstriped sky blue shirt, the collar creased just so precisely halfway along its length. A pair of round, direct spectacles sit on his parrot nose as he stares intently at, well,
The Statesman. Scourge of proper grammar, disdain of the English major, and harbinger of insignificant drivel. The
campus
paper.
This image is so strikingly awful in his well-measured hands with trimmed fingernails that I can't help but writhe silently in disgust.
Because, you see, he's sitting three feet to my right.
And I'm fairly certain he has no idea I'm writing about him. He's too absorbed in
"What Sally Ate For Breakfast, and Why You Should Eat It Too Because You're A Fat College Student"
or
"Yet Another Article About Young Mormon Couples"
or
"How Frikkin' Awesome Our Football Team Is"
to notice my prose on the gross irony of his apparel and his reading material. He needs to pick up a copy of a Charles Dickens novel and find himself a good brick fireplace to read next to with a hound dog slumbering at his feet. Have some class, bro.
This man is clothed in polished earth-colored leather shoes, strikingly ironed black slacks and a pinstriped sky blue shirt, the collar creased just so precisely halfway along its length. A pair of round, direct spectacles sit on his parrot nose as he stares intently at, well,
The Statesman. Scourge of proper grammar, disdain of the English major, and harbinger of insignificant drivel. The
campus
paper.
This image is so strikingly awful in his well-measured hands with trimmed fingernails that I can't help but writhe silently in disgust.
Because, you see, he's sitting three feet to my right.
And I'm fairly certain he has no idea I'm writing about him. He's too absorbed in
"What Sally Ate For Breakfast, and Why You Should Eat It Too Because You're A Fat College Student"
or
"Yet Another Article About Young Mormon Couples"
or
"How Frikkin' Awesome Our Football Team Is"
to notice my prose on the gross irony of his apparel and his reading material. He needs to pick up a copy of a Charles Dickens novel and find himself a good brick fireplace to read next to with a hound dog slumbering at his feet. Have some class, bro.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Oh, Godfrey!
I work at a feed mill in Northern Utah.
It's right below the state border, which means that I work with lots of people from Idaho.
Lots of these fine fellers have grown up working on a farm or a dairy. This combined with a childhood in North Cache Valley has made this certain brand of hick especially quirky.
They say some funny stuff from time to time. I thought most of it was hilarious, and tried to keep my laughter contained. Some of my bathroom breaks have really been laughing breaks.
I've been collecting things that people have said all summer long that I found amusing. Like using "Godfrey" as an exclamation. I will explain the context when necessary.
**WARNING: CONTAINS LANGUAGE. It has been censored, but given the nature of the men at my job, there is definitely some profanity. I thought it made it more funny at times, so judge me if you will, but there it is.
Enjoy.
"I'm slower at this than a one-legged man in an a**-kickin' contest."
-A coworker, in reference to his speed at bagging feed.
"Use your brain for something besides keeping your ears from flapping together."
-In reference to the idiot sheep tourists at Lava Hot Springs.
"I hope that sum-b**ch blows up on him."
-In reference to another employee shooting out of the door in a 32 year old forklift.
"You buncha yahoos gonna get off yer biscuits and start workin'?"
-'Yahoo' is pronounced 'Yayhoo.'
"You lived in Salt Lake? You must be one of them rich kids, huh?"
-A supervisor, to me, upon learning that I had lived in Riverton.
"So, you married?"
"What's your wife's name?"
-These are interchangeable and are used shortly after meeting you by any given employee or trucker on the mill. Usually the second question asked, following directly after "What's yer name?"
"You weren't at the rodeo?"
-Anytime there is a rodeo anywhere near the mill.
"It's a wonder he's still alive, as dumb as he is."
-Yep.
"This stuff reeks."
"Yep, smells like pig s**t."
-I said the first one, the guy I was working with said the second.
Me: "Who's this for?"
Coworker: "BIG D**K."
Me: "Who?"
CW: "BIG D**K HARRIS. He's about four hundred pounds and he walks like a penguin."
-When reading this, imagine a five foot four man that weighs about two hundred pounds in his seventies with huge bug eyes growling through tobacco-stained teeth. It was hilarious.
"Ya wanna be in the airborne infantry? I don't think they've got a parachute big enough to keep your fat a** from splattin' into the ground"
-One employee, to another, when he said he wanted to join the army.
Hope you had a good laugh. I sometimes wish it was possible to sneak in a spy camera thingy, but then I remember that I'm working a crappy summer job.
Thanks for reading!
It's right below the state border, which means that I work with lots of people from Idaho.
Lots of these fine fellers have grown up working on a farm or a dairy. This combined with a childhood in North Cache Valley has made this certain brand of hick especially quirky.
They say some funny stuff from time to time. I thought most of it was hilarious, and tried to keep my laughter contained. Some of my bathroom breaks have really been laughing breaks.
I've been collecting things that people have said all summer long that I found amusing. Like using "Godfrey" as an exclamation. I will explain the context when necessary.
**WARNING: CONTAINS LANGUAGE. It has been censored, but given the nature of the men at my job, there is definitely some profanity. I thought it made it more funny at times, so judge me if you will, but there it is.
Enjoy.
"I'm slower at this than a one-legged man in an a**-kickin' contest."
-A coworker, in reference to his speed at bagging feed.
"Use your brain for something besides keeping your ears from flapping together."
-In reference to the idiot sheep tourists at Lava Hot Springs.
"I hope that sum-b**ch blows up on him."
-In reference to another employee shooting out of the door in a 32 year old forklift.
"You buncha yahoos gonna get off yer biscuits and start workin'?"
-'Yahoo' is pronounced 'Yayhoo.'
"You lived in Salt Lake? You must be one of them rich kids, huh?"
-A supervisor, to me, upon learning that I had lived in Riverton.
"So, you married?"
"What's your wife's name?"
-These are interchangeable and are used shortly after meeting you by any given employee or trucker on the mill. Usually the second question asked, following directly after "What's yer name?"
"You weren't at the rodeo?"
-Anytime there is a rodeo anywhere near the mill.
"It's a wonder he's still alive, as dumb as he is."
-Yep.
"This stuff reeks."
"Yep, smells like pig s**t."
-I said the first one, the guy I was working with said the second.
Me: "Who's this for?"
Coworker: "BIG D**K."
Me: "Who?"
CW: "BIG D**K HARRIS. He's about four hundred pounds and he walks like a penguin."
-When reading this, imagine a five foot four man that weighs about two hundred pounds in his seventies with huge bug eyes growling through tobacco-stained teeth. It was hilarious.
"Ya wanna be in the airborne infantry? I don't think they've got a parachute big enough to keep your fat a** from splattin' into the ground"
-One employee, to another, when he said he wanted to join the army.
Hope you had a good laugh. I sometimes wish it was possible to sneak in a spy camera thingy, but then I remember that I'm working a crappy summer job.
Thanks for reading!
Friday, May 31, 2013
How to Tug at a Man's Heartstrings: A Guide for Girls
Girls, this one's for you.
This is my take on the things you do that
drive
guys
nuts.
Also, the things you do that are sooper awesome.
And make us stare. And stuff.
Basically, what you should and should not do if you want to communicate with the fellas.
I'm going to start with the things that are annoying, because complaining is fun.
These sunglasses:
Speaking of perfume, don't wear too much. Just a dab to make you smell like God's flower garden is plenty. If you're not sure if you put on too much, take a look behind you after you pass a group of people every once in a while. If they're crawling on the ground with disheveled skin, gasping for air with bone dry lips and rasping lungs, you're doing it wrong.
Not all guys agree on this, so don't take my word for it, but I think it's awesome when a girl's comfortable with not wearing makeup every once in a while. To me, that speaks volumes of her character, which, quite honestly, is waaay hotter than 5 pounds of Maybelline's Fake Tan Foundation.
The duck face, for the last time, is not cute. It makes your attractiveness degenerate in the Honey Boo Boo direction.
Being exceptionally giggly and ditzy isn't cute. Some guys think so, but I don't. The general population seems to agree with me. Again, my word isn't law. Just watch the spazzy hyena level.
Not all girls are like this, but the gals who don't like getting their picture taken because she says she's "ugly" confuses me to no end. Nobody, I guarantee you, is going to look at that picture and go "Ig. She's ugly. She needs to fix her makeup and make sure that stray hair is tucked behind her ear. And that fleck of dust, my word, she looks like a hobo."
Now for the good.
There's something about the way a girl thinks, the range of people she notices and takes time to care for, that is really intriguing and fascinating to a guy. A girl, in general, absorbs more than the average guy, and the things it does mixed with a selfless character is very, very attractive.
When a girl takes the time to ask a guy a question, or smile at him, or give him a hug, it's like hitting him with a ton of bricks. It'll tell him a lot. Ladies, we're simple creatures, and we respond to direct attention. If you play hard to get, we'll assume you're giving us the cold shoulder. You don't have to initiate everything, but if you show some interest in a guy he will assume that you like him. Refusing to talk to a guy because you don't want to draw him in too much can sometimes be a rational measure, but not if you want to catch his attention.
We like smiles. Lots. Even if they're not directed at us.
Willingness to try new things is really attractive. Why? It reveals a sense of adventure. It's okay to let us know you're scared, and if something's really scary we don't think you're lame by backing out, but if you partake in things we know you're uncomfortable with on occasion it's really really awesome. It tells us that you're confident, spontaneous, and willing to do new things. Which means, probably, that you're better at working through hard stuff.
It's nice when girls don't whine too much about their problems. Sharing them with a male confidante for comfort is one thing, whining is another. What's nice and really cool is when a girl shares her problems openly and honestly (within reason) and sincerely asks for prayer.
If you're a Christian, I urge you to be transparent. Silence is better than fake holiness. Speak when you are led, and act out of a desire to honor God and not yourself (isn't that the point of being a Christian, anyway?) A woman on fire for God is super attractive to a guy on fire for God.
Playing with little kids (and liking it) is pretty dang attractive.
To cap the list (I hate to use a cliche), but be yourself. Ick. I'm pulling out the thesaurus.
Exist in uniqueness.
March to the beat of your own djembe.
Exude your own chi.
Ignore external pressures to alter your personality for the sake of the moment.
You get the idea. If you think guys go for a different kind of personality than yours so you change your behavior, you're doing it wrong. If you do that, and end up marrying a guy that dated you for a person that didn't exist, either he is going to be surprised when you aren't who you acted as before, or you're going to be miserable with your mask for the rest of your life. Wait for the guy that loves the good in you, and is willing to crunch through the bad. Not the one you think you can reel in with the right behavior.
Hopefully this has been helpful. Questions and comments are welcome. :)
This is my take on the things you do that
drive
guys
nuts.
Also, the things you do that are sooper awesome.
And make us stare. And stuff.
Basically, what you should and should not do if you want to communicate with the fellas.
I'm going to start with the things that are annoying, because complaining is fun.
These sunglasses:
make you look like a deranged insect.
Wearing perfume.
Speaking of perfume, don't wear too much. Just a dab to make you smell like God's flower garden is plenty. If you're not sure if you put on too much, take a look behind you after you pass a group of people every once in a while. If they're crawling on the ground with disheveled skin, gasping for air with bone dry lips and rasping lungs, you're doing it wrong.
Not all guys agree on this, so don't take my word for it, but I think it's awesome when a girl's comfortable with not wearing makeup every once in a while. To me, that speaks volumes of her character, which, quite honestly, is waaay hotter than 5 pounds of Maybelline's Fake Tan Foundation.
The duck face, for the last time, is not cute. It makes your attractiveness degenerate in the Honey Boo Boo direction.
Being exceptionally giggly and ditzy isn't cute. Some guys think so, but I don't. The general population seems to agree with me. Again, my word isn't law. Just watch the spazzy hyena level.
Not all girls are like this, but the gals who don't like getting their picture taken because she says she's "ugly" confuses me to no end. Nobody, I guarantee you, is going to look at that picture and go "Ig. She's ugly. She needs to fix her makeup and make sure that stray hair is tucked behind her ear. And that fleck of dust, my word, she looks like a hobo."
Now for the good.
There's something about the way a girl thinks, the range of people she notices and takes time to care for, that is really intriguing and fascinating to a guy. A girl, in general, absorbs more than the average guy, and the things it does mixed with a selfless character is very, very attractive.
When a girl takes the time to ask a guy a question, or smile at him, or give him a hug, it's like hitting him with a ton of bricks. It'll tell him a lot. Ladies, we're simple creatures, and we respond to direct attention. If you play hard to get, we'll assume you're giving us the cold shoulder. You don't have to initiate everything, but if you show some interest in a guy he will assume that you like him. Refusing to talk to a guy because you don't want to draw him in too much can sometimes be a rational measure, but not if you want to catch his attention.
We like smiles. Lots. Even if they're not directed at us.
Willingness to try new things is really attractive. Why? It reveals a sense of adventure. It's okay to let us know you're scared, and if something's really scary we don't think you're lame by backing out, but if you partake in things we know you're uncomfortable with on occasion it's really really awesome. It tells us that you're confident, spontaneous, and willing to do new things. Which means, probably, that you're better at working through hard stuff.
It's nice when girls don't whine too much about their problems. Sharing them with a male confidante for comfort is one thing, whining is another. What's nice and really cool is when a girl shares her problems openly and honestly (within reason) and sincerely asks for prayer.
If you're a Christian, I urge you to be transparent. Silence is better than fake holiness. Speak when you are led, and act out of a desire to honor God and not yourself (isn't that the point of being a Christian, anyway?) A woman on fire for God is super attractive to a guy on fire for God.
Playing with little kids (and liking it) is pretty dang attractive.
To cap the list (I hate to use a cliche), but be yourself. Ick. I'm pulling out the thesaurus.
Exist in uniqueness.
March to the beat of your own djembe.
Exude your own chi.
Ignore external pressures to alter your personality for the sake of the moment.
You get the idea. If you think guys go for a different kind of personality than yours so you change your behavior, you're doing it wrong. If you do that, and end up marrying a guy that dated you for a person that didn't exist, either he is going to be surprised when you aren't who you acted as before, or you're going to be miserable with your mask for the rest of your life. Wait for the guy that loves the good in you, and is willing to crunch through the bad. Not the one you think you can reel in with the right behavior.
Hopefully this has been helpful. Questions and comments are welcome. :)
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Surviving College
If you're in college or about to go to college, this one's for you. Here's a few shining pearls of advice to getting in and out of school alive.
-Potatoes and eggs are wonderful things. Cheap, yummy, filling, and easy. Heck, I even found a recipe involving both of them at the same time, and it was reeeally good.
-Ramen is a last resort measure. On the underside of a sheet of notes crammed in the margin kind of last resort measure. Just don't do it.
-Sleep is great. But if you have an opportunity to chill with folks instead, I'd chill with folks. I'll sleep when I'm dead.
-Don't play Slender. It's a creepy game involving you as a little kid running around in the woods with a flashlight while being stalked by the slender man, a tall, pale white dude in a suit that follows you around and eventually catches you. There's no way to win. It's pretty messed up.
-Couches become more and more awesome the older you get.
-Accept the fact that you're gonna be wrong as early as possible. You'll get hucked around by so many evil professors, weird people, and general stress that you can't afford to live under the illusion that you have it all under control.
-Ultimate frisbee is the best. Dodgeball is the best. Movie nights are the best. Free food is the best. It's all out there. Go do it. I know people who have contests for the first week of school with all of the open houses/opening socials and stuff to see how long you can go without eating any of your own food. If you play it right, you'll be stuffed all week, and you'll get several new t-shirts.
-Find somebody to talk to about stuff that's generally not fun to talk about. It helps a lot to have friends to emotional-dump with when you need it.
-Try new things. Within reason, (see the fourth item on the list) obviously, but don't be a stickler that doesn't want to do a pickle-eating contest because you think it's too weird.
-Get a good bike if you don't already have one. Cheap, calorie-burner, and easy to take care of. USU has a bike shop that you can take your bike to, and they'll show you how to fix it for free. It also lets you borrow a bike for free.
-Having fun does not equal spending money.
-If you want to pick something up, just go for it. I started playing guitar a year ago. I'm not a pro by any means, but I'm really glad I decided to do it. It's a great time-killer.
-Make a good resume as early as possible. It's like ripping off a band-aid, but worth it once you have it.
-Farts are funny.
-Don't freak out too badly about your first C on a paper or test. It'll happen.
-If you're going to school at USU, just know that half of the people you meet will be married already.
-On campus food is expensive. Buy only when necessary.
And finally, ladies and gents, there will be those that don't leave high school drama behind. Be gracious to them, but don't think you have to grovel to everyone. Find more friends that don't post pictures of their two-ton mayonnaise beef-wich on Facebook.
-Potatoes and eggs are wonderful things. Cheap, yummy, filling, and easy. Heck, I even found a recipe involving both of them at the same time, and it was reeeally good.
-Ramen is a last resort measure. On the underside of a sheet of notes crammed in the margin kind of last resort measure. Just don't do it.
-Sleep is great. But if you have an opportunity to chill with folks instead, I'd chill with folks. I'll sleep when I'm dead.
-Don't play Slender. It's a creepy game involving you as a little kid running around in the woods with a flashlight while being stalked by the slender man, a tall, pale white dude in a suit that follows you around and eventually catches you. There's no way to win. It's pretty messed up.
-Couches become more and more awesome the older you get.
-Accept the fact that you're gonna be wrong as early as possible. You'll get hucked around by so many evil professors, weird people, and general stress that you can't afford to live under the illusion that you have it all under control.
-Ultimate frisbee is the best. Dodgeball is the best. Movie nights are the best. Free food is the best. It's all out there. Go do it. I know people who have contests for the first week of school with all of the open houses/opening socials and stuff to see how long you can go without eating any of your own food. If you play it right, you'll be stuffed all week, and you'll get several new t-shirts.
-Find somebody to talk to about stuff that's generally not fun to talk about. It helps a lot to have friends to emotional-dump with when you need it.
-Try new things. Within reason, (see the fourth item on the list) obviously, but don't be a stickler that doesn't want to do a pickle-eating contest because you think it's too weird.
-Get a good bike if you don't already have one. Cheap, calorie-burner, and easy to take care of. USU has a bike shop that you can take your bike to, and they'll show you how to fix it for free. It also lets you borrow a bike for free.
-Having fun does not equal spending money.
-If you want to pick something up, just go for it. I started playing guitar a year ago. I'm not a pro by any means, but I'm really glad I decided to do it. It's a great time-killer.
-Make a good resume as early as possible. It's like ripping off a band-aid, but worth it once you have it.
-Farts are funny.
-Don't freak out too badly about your first C on a paper or test. It'll happen.
-If you're going to school at USU, just know that half of the people you meet will be married already.
-On campus food is expensive. Buy only when necessary.
And finally, ladies and gents, there will be those that don't leave high school drama behind. Be gracious to them, but don't think you have to grovel to everyone. Find more friends that don't post pictures of their two-ton mayonnaise beef-wich on Facebook.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Discussions on the Interwebs
Discussions about controversial subjects usually don't bug me.
Not in real life, at least.
But if I happen to be engaged in a discussion on the internet about gun control with someone, the rules for civil conversation suddenly vanish for no reason.
People seem to be under the impression that once you get behind a keyboard and a computer screen, you can be as big of a doodoo head as you want to be.
You can avoid answering questions, blurt outrageous statements with no source, and call people doodoo heads. And lots of other nasty things.
Question. If you were actually face to face with the person you're flaming on facebook, would you say half of the things you're barfing onto some poor soul's page? You would? Quite a wonder your nose is as straight as it is in the two hundred selfies you've got on your profile.
'Nuther question. Wouldn't it be more enjoyable for everyone if you only posted things you would actually say in real life? Wouldn't it make intellectual conversations, erm, actually productive? Calling each other doodoo heads whilst attempting figure out if Obama is a doodoo head or not doesn't accomplish anything at all.
Be nice.
Don't fling doodoo.
Fling chill pills. And hugs. But not facebook pokes. I will kill you. Doodoo head.
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